


Even Now I Lie Awake

by dreamlittleyo



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Angst, Canon Era, Established Relationship, M/M, Protective Washington, Rank Disparity, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-29
Updated: 2017-09-29
Packaged: 2019-01-06 16:53:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12214944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamlittleyo/pseuds/dreamlittleyo
Summary: A standalone little fic, in which Washington is terrified of a future he can't foresee.





	Even Now I Lie Awake

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aidennestorm](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aidennestorm/gifts).



He will inevitably ruin the boy.

It's a terrible thought, but one he returns to in his most despairing moments, when all he can see in any direction are the suffocating shadows of failure. He will lose this war. He will fail every soldier depending on him. He will ruin Alexander Hamilton. What other outcome is possible?

Alexander is asleep in his arms now, breathing soft and steady. A sweet and welcome presence in the quiet intimacy of Washington's bed. His boy is exhausted from the days of travel to their new encampment, or perhaps from the desperation with which Washington claimed him once they were finally alone.

They had no privacy during the interminable march westward. He could not touch his boy without endangering them both.

Washington may be a foolish old man, but he is not entirely without sense.

Alexander shifts in the circle of his arms, barely changing position yet somehow managing to nestle even closer. The night is far too warm for the sharing of body heat, but Washington doesn't mind. He would put up with far greater discomforts in order to keep Alexander close. He would sacrifice _anything_ —his fortune, his prospects, his command—if only he might be allowed to keep the boy forever.

But those are impossible dreams. He should not have Alexander _now_ ; he has no right to fantasize about forever.

This thing between them is a deadly secret. Dangerous to both of them, but especially lethal to Alexander who lacks the protections that might come with wealth or a powerful family. At best discovery would destroy Alexander's entire future—at worst, Washington cannot even consider the possibilities—and regardless of the consequences, the blame would be Washington's alone to bear.

They are careful. _Always_ they are careful. He won't let harm come to Alexander so long as there is breath in his body.

Yet in moments like this, sleepless and tense, he can't imagine any outcome but disaster.

"George?" Alexander stirs. His voice is foggy with fatigue.

"Go back to sleep." Washington soothes a hand along Alexander's side. "It will be morning soon."

Instead of obeying the gentle admonition, Alexander eases back just far enough to meet Washington's eyes. There are questions in the boy's piercing scrutiny. He looks suddenly very much awake.

"Why aren't _you_ asleep?" Alexander touches Washington's face, traces soft fingers along the line of his jaw. His expression sharpens. "Something is troubling you."

"Nothing is troubling me," Washington lies.

"Something is _always_ troubling you," Alexander counters archly.

"Alexander—"

"What are you thinking about?" There's stubbornness in that tone. Something blunt and deliberate in the question. Clever eyes hold Washington trapped; he could not evade the boy's sincerity even if he wanted to.

"I'm thinking about you," Washington admits. "And about this war. And about a future in which I cannot protect you." It's more than he intended to say. Somehow Alexander always brings out far too much honesty in him.

Alexander's eyes glint bright and ferocious, but his voice is still soft when he says, "I don't need you to protect me."

"Perhaps. But I would just as soon _not_ bring ruin and scandal down upon your head."

An exasperated sigh is Alexander's only answer. They've had this conversation before, and Washington has never yet convinced him their entanglement is a bad idea. He certainly has not managed to convince _himself_ to walk away. Which means all his protests are nothing but empty words. He can't end the affair himself; he's lost far too much of his heart to this reckless, brilliant boy.

A moment passes silent between them, and then Alexander is sliding against him, kissing him. Distracting him. Holding on so tightly there is no space for recrimination. And Washington—

Washington allows himself to be distracted.


End file.
